Kay Barrett @Spacewriting

Two Dozen Roses, a ROSE story by @spacewriting

Reposted from here: A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, I said. So I called him Graham Thomas and took him to bed with me. His scent was faded by morning, and he lay there, thorny as I teased him. Shall you be Olivia, shall you be Lara? Do you fly on

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Cabinet, a CABINET story by @spacewriting

Reposted from here. In the cabinet: the curiosities. Where the desirables retain their value; where secrets are kept. In the cabinet where motes rush headlong against the glass, shining until the last, and inside their sunless counterparts lay dormant and fearful. Maria looked out of a cramped corridor window and saw rows of heads. Hairless

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Bounty, a BOUNTY story by @spacewriting

Reposted from here. I look up from Twitter briefly and he’s hovering in his slippers, which are grey and look like they’re made of carpet cut-offs. His ankles are disturbingly white above them. “Want to hear a joke?” He says. I rearrange the lower half of my face, but my eyes are back to skimming

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Peach, a PEACH story by @spacewriting

Reposted from here. The tree itself was peach, the bark was peach-coloured, and the roots too. They wound through the earth under his feet, looking disturbingly like a huge, clutching hand. The leaves were dappled in the sun; peaches and cream. But it wasn’t a peach tree. There were no flowers or fruit, and it

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Trains, a TRAIN poem by Kay Barrett @Spacewriting

Reposted from here. They are swaying, soundless, side by side, rails silver-vein the countryside, and it spills around and snatches back, chased by the soundtrack; clickety-clack. So far the coast, yet now looms near the busy sand, it empties here, overhead, the wires, they rise and slack, and young laughter drowns the clickety-clack. They jostle,

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MONSTRUM, a SEED story by Kay Barrett @sparewriting

Reposted from here. “In the year 1144… the day of Pentecost, unheard of in our time a horrible portent appeared” Annales Gradicenses et Opatovicenses – Emler, 1875 At the very moment the dark column descended from upon high she was kneeling to pray. Forever afterwards she would rebuke herself, certain that she had somehow raised

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Necrotica, a RING story by Kay Barrett @spacewriting

Reposted from here.   You said to me “you are the moon of my darkness, so pale and so soft. Like white velvet. Like a snowy meadow.” A dew-soaked morning;  you brought me here. The heat shattered the brittle humidity later on. Later on, when I came back. It slid from me in waves and

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Glamour by Kay Barrett @KayBeeBooks

Reposted from here. Stewart perched on the arm of the sofa and heaved a great sigh. He was becoming despondent. All of his romantic overtures to the beauteous Moira had come to naught. His friends had started to laugh at him; at first in huddles when they thought he wasn’t looking, but now openly. “Mate,” his

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Widdershins by Kay Barrett @KayBeeBooks

Reposted from here. A bright day; a white arm, languid, partially obscured by the row-locks. It was all he could see of her. She trailed her finger in a circle. The water’s surface splintered into shards of light. “Widdershins, widdershins.” He could barely hear her. He shifted his head; one ear was laying against his

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